The Innocent: Chapter 10 (Patreon)

Index

Chapter 10

Kyla

Camille was laughing, trying not to while she drove because it didn’t make it easier for her to bite down on the candy I was giving her. Or not giving her. I kept holding it out and then pulling it away every time she tried to bite it, and she looked so cute chomping at nothing that I couldn’t resist.

When I did it again, she exclaimed through another laugh, “You’re such a tease!” I tossed the fruit candy into my mouth instead, grinning at her while I chewed obnoxiously.

“Alright,” I agreed, “for real this time.” I took another piece out of the pack and held it in front of her, and she was so distrusting that she inched forward slowly. But I slowly pulled it back as I snickered to myself, earning a glare out the side of her eyes. “Alright, alright,” I giggled, and put the piece against her pursed lips. She snatched it so fast with her teeth that she got some of my fingers too. “Ow,” I laughed.

She passed me another lighthearted glare, but was smirking as she teased, “Serves you right.”

I reached over to grab her head, holding her in place while I leaned across the seats to kiss her cheek. She smiled about it for a minute while we continued on the road, pulling through the iron gates and slowing down. After another minute, we’d finally reached our destination at the graveyard, so she pulled the Jeep over on the side of the street that winded through it, parking as close as we could get to Lacey’s grave. It’d been a while since we’d visited, but Camille wanted to come this afternoon to apologize – even though she had no control over it, she felt bad that her keychain was gone.

It must’ve been our arrival that caused the sudden shift in Camille’s mood, because as soon as she turned off the engine, she went somber. I thought it was because she was still sad about Lacey, so I asked, “What’s wrong?” to try and get her to talk about it.

“I have to do this before I can’t.” She took in a deep breath, but those were nerves I was feeling from her, not sadness, and that was odd… “That’s what I wanted to ask you, actually.”

My eyebrows furrowed because we’d just been laughing and having fun. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

“Right now you are,” she said, and she was nervous enough that she was staring out the windshield instead of looking at me. “But you’re not always, I can feel it. And I’ve been too scared to push it, but this doesn’t feel like something we shouldn’t talk about. You can talk to me, I hope you know that, especially if it’s because I did something wrong.”

Oh. She was asking. After all these months, she was finally asking. A big part of me was relieved that she’d brought it up, that she was worried enough now to push boundaries, because most of the time, her not knowing hurt the most. But there was another part of me that was afraid to say it. Afraid that the walls of composure I’d worked months on building would come crumbling down the moment I said it out loud, or that she’d blame herself for it.

“It ain’t you,” I murmured.

She finally looked over at me, but I looked away. "I won’t force you to talk to me,” she said, “but I wish you would.”

I took a deep breath, and held it for a while to work up the courage to say it. To tell her exactly what happened. “You remember when,” I swallowed around the name, “when Jonathan kidnapped me and Luna?” She nodded. “Well, he didn’t just kidnap me…” She inhaled as if to say something, but nothing came out, and even though her eyes widened and her face paled with realization, I explained anyway. I told her everything. Every detail I could remember. It was uncomfortable, and I wanted to shut down the thoughts and memories before they could hurt me, but I got through it. And to my surprise, I didn’t break down. It did hurt, but not nearly as much as I thought it would, and it didn’t scare me or make me feel as fragile as it used to, and knowing that I’d healed even this much was healing on its own. But then I felt exactly what I didn’t want to in the connection. Guilt. “You’re blaming yourself,” I muttered, “that’s why I never told you.”

“Kyla,” she shifted in her seat to face me more wholly, “how I feel is the least important thing right now. Are you okay?”

"Yeah," I said, but that wasn’t entirely true and we both knew it. “I don’t know… Most the time.”

She swallowed hard, and no matter what emotions I could feel from her – guilt, anger, sadness, discomfort – she was trying so hard to stay calm. To respond the way I needed her to, and that made me feel better about this too. Made me feel less afraid of what she’d do or say, and the discomfort I had in talking about it lessened just a little. “I’m sorry,” she said, and when she held out her hand, I put my own into it. “That it happened. And that you had to deal with it alone.”

“Not really alone,” I admitted.

“Abby,” Camille said knowingly, and I nodded, watching her to see if that upset her. If there was any jealousy that Abby had known things about me she didn’t. There was none, and she seemed to recognize what I was thinking, because she said, “It’s okay. I’m glad you had someone to talk to if you wanted, even if it wasn’t me.” My lips pursed with a thankful smile. “Is there anything I can do? Do I ever do things that make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” I said, “I never feel anything but safe with you.” She brought my hand up to her mouth so she could press soft kisses to the back. “Honestly, sometimes what bothered me most was that I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. I felt like I was lying, but I couldn’t do it.”

“Hey,” she said, kissing my hand again, “it’s okay. You weren’t ready to tell me on your own, and that’s okay.”

“I guess, if you feel me closing off,” I glanced down to think about it, “you could hug me. That’ll help.”

“I can do that,” she said with a smile. “And if you ever want to talk about it, or, I don’t know, even cry, I’m here for you.”

“I know,” I said, squeezing her hand in thanks. “But I think I’m fine, or I will be. I’m dealing with it, and even though you make me feel safe, I feel safer because I don’t need you.” I winced, because that kind of came out wrong. “I mean I can protect myself now.”

Camille huffed with laughter. “I understand. I’m glad.” But then her eyes squinted in thought, and she said, “Wait, that’s why you’ve been training a lot, and why you want to help solve this case so much.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Shit, Kyla.” She shook her head, letting out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry it took me so long to do this.” I shrugged, because I’d never thought it was her fault, and I felt worlds better now that we were talking about it. “Maybe Abby was right.”

“About what?” I asked.

"Our communication could use some work,” she said, and she chuckled when I couldn’t help cracking a smile. “We’ve both kept things from each other,” she said more seriously, “we shouldn’t do that anymore. We need to talk, even if it’s hard.”

I pulled my hand from hers to hold up my pinky finger. “We’ll both do better?”

"Yeah," she agreed, hooking her smallest finger with mine, "I promise.”

“Me too.”

“And, Kyla?” she prompted, and I hummed that I was listening. “Talking means even if it’ll make me feel guilty.” I gave an embarrassed laugh and glanced away, but she set her fingers under my chin to draw my gaze back. “I’m serious. Even when I do feel guilty, I know it’s bullshit because I know you don’t blame me for any of this. Whatever I feel is my responsibility, please don’t let it keep you from telling me how you feel.”

“I won’t,” I assured her, and I meant it, and I leaned across the middle to kiss her. When we separated, she glanced out the windshield again, staring for a few moments in thought and then letting out another heavy sigh. It seemed she was about to say something to me when she looked over again, but then my phone started ringing. “It’s Abby,” I said, checking the caller ID. Camille gestured for me to answer, so I did and put her on speakerphone. “Hey.”

She didn’t even say hi, just went straight into asking, “Who’s with Camille?”

“Me,” I answered. “What’s wrong?”

“There was another killing last night.” She paused, a disappointed breath coming loud through the phone. “I don’t know where Camille’s at on Constance’s shit list, but don’t let her out of your sight.”

"Alright," I said.

“Not even for a second,” Abby insisted.

“I won’t, Abs,” I assured her, “don’t worry.”

She let out another heavy breath, and Camille leaned in and asked with some hesitation, “…Who was it?”

"Another student," Abby answered after a brief pause. "A member of a local coven. An important coven, actually." There was no missing the stress in her voice. “Now they’re pissed and want to know why the case hasn’t been solved yet, and my dad’s bringing the heat and I don’t know what else to do. We have no idea how to find Constance, or who her next target is.”

"Are you okay?” I asked. I’d never known her to let pressure get to her like this, especially when it came from her father. “Want us to meet you somewhere?”

She almost sounded relieved as she asked, “Are you busy?”

“We’re visiting Lacey,” I answered gently, because Lacey was both her and Camille’s loss. “We can come after.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “Thanks. And hey, Camille?”

Camille gave a curious glance at the phone in my hand while she asked, “Yeah?”

“Let her know I still think about her.”

"I will.”

"See you soon," Abby said, and hung up.

Camille and I got out of the Jeep, and I slipped my hand into hers as we walked, hugging that same arm. I could feel that she appreciated the affection and support, but once we reached Lacey’s grave, I let her go. I stood to the side while she squatted down in front of the headstone, giving her some space and as much time as she needed in order to say what she wanted.

She talked about the case, about how quiet and distant Eli had been, mentioned Abby and laughed about the fact that they were friends. She apologized for losing the keychain, and joked about how they might see each other sooner than anticipated if we couldn’t solve the case. She tried to laugh at that but couldn’t, and there was a darkening in the already somber connection as she fell quiet. For a little while, she simply stayed there, head down and not saying anything. Then she murmured a goodbye and stood.

It looked like she was ready to leave, but I could see the sorrow on her face even if I hadn’t been able to feel it, so I trudged over and slipped my arms through her open jacket, wrapping them around her waist. Her arms curled around my shoulders while her face buried against my neck. I hugged her for a long minute as she stayed nuzzled there, breathing in my scent and taking in the comfort I tried to send through the connection, letting it relieve some of her heartache.

Eventually, she pulled away, and she said, “Thanks,” while I kissed her on the cheek.

"You gonna be alright?" I asked, hands still on her hips in case she needed another hug.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “I-” She stopped short, her nostrils flaring as she inhaled a breath through her nose. “Did you smell that?”

I’d noticed the small breeze that picked up, but I hadn’t smelled anything out of the ordinary. Nothing but the crisp snow and dirt and the flowers on various graves. “What?”

She turned, seeking the source while she murmured, “Blood.”

I stuck my nose in the air and sniffed. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, “it was-” She turned completely and took a few steps further into the graveyard. “It was fresh. Where…” She wandered off toward the right while I followed, inhaling deeply before she decided that was wrong and headed off to the left. She paced around for a minute searching for the scent before another breeze finally kicked in. “There,” she said, and she hurried off at a jog to follow it.

I trailed her close, and we’d only been after it for fifty yards before I started to smell it too. It was blood, and it was fresh. Camille led the way almost to the opposite end of the cemetery, the subtle scent gaining in strength until she came to a stop in front of a family grave. It was beneath an old massive oak tree, whose leaves and branches were so thick it was the greenest and most snow-free plot here, the earth-set gravestone of which was as long and wide as a casket. It was also slightly off center, revealing an edge of deep darkness hidden beneath from which the smell of blood was rich.

“The dead don’t smell like that,” Camille said. She glanced around the empty graveyard and then squatted, easily lifting the heavy stone enough to move it completely sideways. It revealed an opening that dropped down into a cavern, and Camille held her head sideways over it, listening for movement from below before glancing at me and asking, “You agree we have to go down there, right?”

I nodded my full consent, but when she stuck one leg out to prepare to jump in, I grabbed her shoulder. “Me first.” With everything that was going on, there was no way she was going alone into a place that reeked of blood for any amount of time. She looked hesitant about it, but I didn’t give her a chance to protest. I hopped straight into the hole, my feet hitting packed earth about ten feet beneath the surface, and I immediately tensed to prepare for attack. None came, and after a brief glance around, I called up, “It’s empty.”

Camille thudded down at my side, and as we both stood there for a few moments, letting the heavy metallic scent of blood wash over us, a shiver went through my spine. It wasn’t just because the air was at least ten degrees colder in here either. This crypt was eerie. There was something about it, some otherworldly instinct in my stomach that made this place feel far from right. It felt haunted, and deadly, and unwelcoming. As if the spirits that belonged to whoever was in the coffins set in the stone walls didn’t want us here. But we needed to be here, because there were more scents underlying the staggering strength of blood.

“Kyla,” Camille said quietly, and took in a deep breath that echoed in the cavern, “is that…?”

“Devon Nealy’s scent,” I confirmed.

It was so faint, but it was there along with two others, and we didn’t need to follow it to where the smell of blood was strongest, because our night vision let us see it. The shadow of dried blood beneath the only coffin-empty wall across from us. The set of shackles above it secured about three-quarters of the way up. My stomach tightened so fiercely in response to the sight that I couldn’t even swallow, but it wasn’t my own fear. It was Camille’s. There was no mistaking what had happened here. This was where Constance had killed Devon and Alvin, and the newest victim last night, before taking their bodies elsewhere. Camille was facing the very death that awaited her if Constance managed to get a hold of her.

I reached out for her hand, trying to offer some comfort. “It’s okay. We won’t let her take you.”

“It’s not okay,” she muttered, and her fear shifted to anger. “I don’t care about me anymore. We have to stop her before she does this to anyone else.” She pulled her hand from mine and reached into her pocket to grab her cellphone.

“What’re you doing?”

“Calling the cops,” she answered.

I grabbed her before she could even unlock the screen. “You can’t.”

“This is a crime scene, Kyla,” she argued. “It’s the only lead for solving the case.”

“Exactly,” I said with urgency, “it’s the only lead. If the cops come, it’ll scare Constance away. And then she’ll take the killing somewhere else and we’ll lose the only place we know where to find her.”

She considered it for a moment while her eyes wandered around the crypt, and then nodded and shoved the phone back into her pocket. “Let’s go,” she folded her fingers together and lowered them to create a step, “I’ll boost you up.”

“You first this time,” I said, and when her eyebrows furrowed curiously, I added, “I ain’t leaving you in the murder pit by yourself.”

She stepped into my hands when I put them together like she had, and at the same time as she jumped, I pushed upward. We were both strong enough that it tossed her clear up, and I could only imagine she landed easily on her feet before lying down and extending an arm through the opening to me. I jumped and grabbed her hand, and she pulled me the rest of the way.

Once we reached the Jeep, we called Abby to see where she wanted us to meet her. She was at the school library, and told us to bring our laptops and have Luna come too. It didn’t take us long to get back to campus and retrieve our computers from my dorm room, and by the time we found Abby in a secluded corner of the library between two rows of bookshelves, Luna was already with her.

The first thing I did while Abby stood to greet us was try and see on her face how she was feeling – she’d sounded so tense on the phone that I’d been a little worried. “I’m good,” she said, but she still accepted it with a grateful smile when my arms wrapped around her neck for a hug. She curled her arms around my waist and added, “Just frustrated.”

“What’d your dad say?” I asked, feeling her exhale against me at the question.

“He said I’m not taking this seriously enough,” she answered, “and if there’s another death I won’t be case lead again for a long time.”

I let her go, briefly cupping her face as I said, “We’ll figure it out.”

She nodded, and we turned to face Camille and Luna. Camille had plopped down across from Luna and stretched her legs out across the aisle, so I sat opposite her and kicked my feet out too, Abby doing the same at Camille’s side so we staggered down the row.

“So what happened?” Camille asked Abby. “Who was it?”

“Some senior named Bonnie Bryant,” she answered. “She was the niece of End Mountain Coven’s High Priestess, Mina Malum. Now End Mountain wants answers and they’re threatening to seek vengeance themselves if the Council doesn’t end it.”

“Was Bonnie practicing?” Luna asked, and Abby nodded. “Do we know who she killed?”

“Not yet,” Abby said. “But the police are questioning people close to her, and my Council contact in the force will call me as soon as he has anything.”

“Where’d they find her?” I asked.

“In her dorm room,” she answered. “Seeing as there was never a murder in that room before, I think it’s safe to say that whoever Bonnie killed, she did it with magic. Plus, she was found with a hex bag and a stuffed animal.”

I motioned to all our laptops. “What’d we bring these for?”

“If you’re up for an all-nighter,” Abby said, “I want to research. Everything. I want to know if there’s a connection between Constance and Patrick that we missed. I want to know everything I can about Bonnie that my contact won’t learn. And I want to know who Constance’s next victim will be if it’s not Camille, and that means searching everyone related to this school to see who might’ve been involved in a murder.”

“All-nighter is right…” Luna mumbled, but when Abby looked across at her, she said more seriously, “I’m up for it.”

"Camille and I have something else to tell you,” I said. “Something big.” Abby and Luna listened intently while Camille and I told them about the graveyard, and we spent the rest of the long night researching anything that we could.

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